Psalm 23
My sermon on Sunday was inspired by Psalm 23. It's nothing profound. You won't find any hidden truths revealed. Just a reiteration of promises that are often taken for granted.
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There was a time in my early adulthood that upon seeing a family with a special needs child I would look upon them sympathetically and say something like, "That mom and dad must be special people to be able to handle that child's needs." And in realizing my own selfishness and weaknesses I would continue on with my wanderings with this confession, "I'm pretty sure I'm not cut out for that kind of parenting. I could not be that kind of dad." And in keeping a fairly safe distance from the family so as not to get any of their good parenting stuff smeared on me for fear that I might somehow then be obliged to parent a child like theirs, I would utter some kind of blessing, "God bless them"...at a safe distance, of course.
I've learned a lot over the last year and a half. It's been confirmed that I am, in fact, extremely selfish and that I do have many weaknesses that daily thwart my attempt at parenting Sophia and especially, Ira.
And because of these weaknesses and because of this selfishness, I constantly feel overwhelmed. I stay in a state of stress these days.
It was a rare night on Thursday. Both kids were asleep. Ira's 8 PM meds were given. There was more work to be done: water to be boiled, syringes to be washed, countertops to be wiped down with disinfectant spray but Laura and I found ourselves wiped out on our bed. As we lay there waiting for the next burst of energy or waiting for our 11 PM nurse to come -- whichever came first -- we just stared at the ceiling. We didn't have the energy to talk but finally Laura mustered just enough to ask the following: Do you ever feel like the weight of all this is too much? that it's caving in around you? that it's going to swallow you whole? I shook my head yes and we continued staring at the ceiling.
I want so badly for this not to be the case. I want so badly to be free of stress. I don't want to be overwhelmed. We are in a season of Easter, for God's sake. Jesus lives. Ira is at home. Sophia, in spite of acting out a little, is doing pretty good considering the circumstances. Our moms have been incredible and generous with their time. We've been given much. I want to be a parent who blogs about the joy of having a special needs child. I want to be like the mom who I met in the PICU right before we left who said about her 12 year old daughter who's been disabled her entire life and in and out of ICUs her entire life, "She's the best thing to ever happen to our family."
On my good days, when I'm able to look outside myself and take a closer look at what's going on in the world, when I'm able to listen to what's happening in this nation, when I'm able to focus in on the issues of this city, when I'm able to concentrate on this church family, I realize that you too are feeling overwhelmed; that you too are feeling stressed. Not all of you. Some of you are a in a good place right now but as I'm coming to know you all better, I'm realizing that you too are feeling the weight of the world crashing down on you and that you too feel that it's unbearable and that you too feel like it will swallow you whole.
Today's lectionary text, Psalm 23, came at the right time for me this week. I come to church to hear texts like Psalm 23. I come to church to be reminded of the promise that God is my shepherd and that he gives me everything I need. I come to church to hear that he will lead me beside still waters and that he will restore my soul. I come to church to hear that dark valleys are indeed a part of the journey but that we can rest assured with the truth that we are not alone, that He is with us. I come to church to hear that I will be comforted in this dark valley. I come to church to hear that goodness and mercy is on its way and that some day I will dwell in God's house forevermore.
Let's read Psalm 23 again, together and let's read it like it's true for it is, church. It is true.
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There was a time in my early adulthood that upon seeing a family with a special needs child I would look upon them sympathetically and say something like, "That mom and dad must be special people to be able to handle that child's needs." And in realizing my own selfishness and weaknesses I would continue on with my wanderings with this confession, "I'm pretty sure I'm not cut out for that kind of parenting. I could not be that kind of dad." And in keeping a fairly safe distance from the family so as not to get any of their good parenting stuff smeared on me for fear that I might somehow then be obliged to parent a child like theirs, I would utter some kind of blessing, "God bless them"...at a safe distance, of course.
I've learned a lot over the last year and a half. It's been confirmed that I am, in fact, extremely selfish and that I do have many weaknesses that daily thwart my attempt at parenting Sophia and especially, Ira.
And because of these weaknesses and because of this selfishness, I constantly feel overwhelmed. I stay in a state of stress these days.
It was a rare night on Thursday. Both kids were asleep. Ira's 8 PM meds were given. There was more work to be done: water to be boiled, syringes to be washed, countertops to be wiped down with disinfectant spray but Laura and I found ourselves wiped out on our bed. As we lay there waiting for the next burst of energy or waiting for our 11 PM nurse to come -- whichever came first -- we just stared at the ceiling. We didn't have the energy to talk but finally Laura mustered just enough to ask the following: Do you ever feel like the weight of all this is too much? that it's caving in around you? that it's going to swallow you whole? I shook my head yes and we continued staring at the ceiling.
I want so badly for this not to be the case. I want so badly to be free of stress. I don't want to be overwhelmed. We are in a season of Easter, for God's sake. Jesus lives. Ira is at home. Sophia, in spite of acting out a little, is doing pretty good considering the circumstances. Our moms have been incredible and generous with their time. We've been given much. I want to be a parent who blogs about the joy of having a special needs child. I want to be like the mom who I met in the PICU right before we left who said about her 12 year old daughter who's been disabled her entire life and in and out of ICUs her entire life, "She's the best thing to ever happen to our family."
On my good days, when I'm able to look outside myself and take a closer look at what's going on in the world, when I'm able to listen to what's happening in this nation, when I'm able to focus in on the issues of this city, when I'm able to concentrate on this church family, I realize that you too are feeling overwhelmed; that you too are feeling stressed. Not all of you. Some of you are a in a good place right now but as I'm coming to know you all better, I'm realizing that you too are feeling the weight of the world crashing down on you and that you too feel that it's unbearable and that you too feel like it will swallow you whole.
Today's lectionary text, Psalm 23, came at the right time for me this week. I come to church to hear texts like Psalm 23. I come to church to be reminded of the promise that God is my shepherd and that he gives me everything I need. I come to church to hear that he will lead me beside still waters and that he will restore my soul. I come to church to hear that dark valleys are indeed a part of the journey but that we can rest assured with the truth that we are not alone, that He is with us. I come to church to hear that I will be comforted in this dark valley. I come to church to hear that goodness and mercy is on its way and that some day I will dwell in God's house forevermore.
Let's read Psalm 23 again, together and let's read it like it's true for it is, church. It is true.
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posted by jch at
7:43 PM
10 Comments:
I look towards heaven on a very regular basis. I find that my soul takes a big, deep, fresh breath when I focus on the promises of ever after. I wrote the following words not long after my son started chemo for his brain tumor....
To lift your hands in worship to a mighty God who is King, to love God more today because you need His refuge more than ever, and to accept those trials as you humble yourself to His plan, brings tears to a heart who calls out to Him with desperate longing to be Home.
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I can testify that when my struggles just seem too overwhelming help is only a phone call away. There are people that are waiting to help you, God has already prepared their hearts. Remember to call in your village to help raise your kids, special needs or not, we all can benefit from friends and family pouring their love into the lives of our children.
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Mighty prayers are covering you.
i've never posted before, but i've been following ira since last summer. i randomly came across this blog, and i check it daily. this post was powerful. thank you for giving me a reality check but also reminding me to rely on God. please know that prayers are lifted daily in Searcy.
kyla gentry
Joe: So very eloquent. Your description of your pre-Ira reactions are probably representative of all of us when confronted with special-needs children.
I take great hope from IICor. 4:17, where Paul says our current troubles are "light and momentary" when compared to the glory that awaits us. I think it was Mother Teresa who said that when we get to heaven, our earthly struggles will seem like one night at an inconvenient hotel.
I can't wait.
The LORD is my shepherd...
thanks Joe,
love you guys.
praying daily,
perk, neesie, chloe, phoebe and baby
Joe my friend, I'm so thankful for your heart and your words today...I'm inspired by your faith and courage, both your's and Laura's,...
We pray for you all every night. Gabe reminds us as we begin each time by saying, "IRA? IRA?" And we say, "That's right Gabe, we're going to pray for Ira." And this amazing smile breaks out on his little face as we pray. May the God of hope fill you and Laura with all joy and peace as you trust in him. We love you!
I just want to keep reciting Psalm 23 over and over all day. I do think that we need to hear at church that there are dark valleys and there is light and hope and you are right...goodnesss and mercy are on the way. Thank you for putting the 23rd Psalm in my head for the day.
Oh, and please go to Tammy's blog and watch the video of her son. Tammy, that is powerful....Jack's eyes tell his story.
I keep praying.
"His power...at work...in you."
With love,
Jina
Joe, I read your sermon to my Bible study group today. We began a new unit on Lamentations this morning, and I wanted to reinforce the point that the worship literature of our ancestors in faith often brought their suffering right into the sanctuary, right into the presence of God, because they believed it belonged there. Likewise, we should welcome the testimonials of suffering of our sisters and brothers in faith because God is with us even when the worst things that ever happened to us are happening, right this minute. We don't have to pretend to be "fine" at church. Thanks for giving us a contemporary example of faithful lament in the context of worship. I'm humbled by the good work you do.
peace -- Katie
I'm the mother of a child with autism. And yes, there are days I feel like everything caves in around me. I wish I could talk about the "joy" of having a child with autism and how I wouldn't change a thing . . . but more often, I curse the autism and if I had the power, I'd make it be gone in a heartbeat!
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